


Killing Me Softly With His Song

by Reis_Asher



Series: Killing Me Softly [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cyberpunk 2077 Slang, Cyberpunk 2077 Spoilers, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Militech, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Role Reversal, Suicide Attempt, Temperance Ending, Trans Male V (Cyberpunk 2077), Vaginal Fingering, relic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28981875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Johnny struggles to adapt to his new life in V's body, falling back into old self-destructive habits. He can't escape Night City or the ghost of the man who sacrificed everything for him.When billboards across the city start lighting up with the letter V, Johnny knows that V's still out there, and he's being called back to his side.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Male V
Series: Killing Me Softly [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125911
Comments: 1
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally decided to bite the bullet and write a longfic. Chapters will go up as I write and edit them.
> 
> This is technically a sequel to Consider Me Gone, but you don't have to read that one to enjoy this.

_V, you fucking gonk, you’ve really gone and done it now._ Johnny watched as V took Alt’s hand and stepped into the realms of cyberspace. V glanced over his shoulder and smiled as if to say, _it’s ok, I was going to die anyway. At least this way someone lives._

“Wait!” V turned his gaze away, ignoring Johnny’s cry. Johnny reached out as V stepped into the light, his form disintegrating into billions of data fragments.

Johnny was yelling, the words shredding his vocal cords like he was screaming out a song at one of Samurai's concerts. "No, this wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the fucking _deal_ —"

Johnny woke gasping for breath. He pushed the sheets off him and stood up, wandering into the decrepit bathroom. He kicked a tequila bottle out from under his feet, one of many overflowing out of the trashcan. The dirty mirror activated, displaying the cruel reflection of V’s face. Johnny frowned as if he expected to see someone else.

Johnny had never quite been able to make this body his. He’d grown his hair out and gone back to his old style, but he hadn’t installed any cyberware. Not even a dick. Felt like sacrilege to even think about it. He was just renting this body the same as the motel room he lived in week-to-week. Cash in hand, no questions asked. Short term. Disassociating from his situation by playing guitar to himself as the whores upstairs cried out fake orgasms and a couple having an affair argued next door. He looked like a modern wannabe Silverhand, a fan who’d taken things too far and began living as his idol. A cosplayer whose next step was off the deep end when he inevitably started claiming he really _was_ Johnny Silverhand.

Sometimes he wondered that himself, when he reached the bottom of a bottle. Was an engram really a person? Was he actually Johnny? What if V had died for nothing more than a computer program emulating Johnny’s thoughts and feelings? Some corpo trick that had that well-meaning gonk V and all his choombas fooled?

That was usually when he stopped drinking and called a joytoy instead. Sometimes they’d even play along and call him Johnny, act like the groupies he’d used to fuck after shows. He paid them back by threatening their abusive beaus and pimps so they could leave NC in one piece. It made him feel better to know some folks made it out, even if he could never leave.

Days and months had fled and he’d abandoned all his promises. Drinking, smoking, and drugs numbed the pain, even as he rebuked himself for poisoning this body. He hadn’t set foot back into Night City, but he’d never technically left, either. Just whittled away the hours at the Sunset Motel after he’d begged the bus driver to let him off. So much for new beginnings. An invisible rope tied him to the city, and when he thought he’d be able to leave, it had yanked him back kicking and screaming, blue in the face like a fetus with its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck.

It was like living in Purgatory, this liminal space outside the city. Perhaps he was trying to mirror V’s existence out there beyond the Blackwall in hopes of being closer to him. Something like that. Whatever poetry Johnny had once found in it was long gone.

So much for being wiser now. V had given him a second chance and he’d done nothing but waste it. He _resented_ it. He’d made peace with the fact he was dead, but V—V had really _loved_ him, and he’d thrown away his entire future for that love. Fuck that. It put too much on his shoulders, elevated Johnny in a way he knew was complete and utter bullshit. Fuck V and fuck his self-sacrificing sainthood act. Putting himself on a cross like that fucking gonk he'd tried to talk out of it. V should have done them both a favor and taken the easy way out with the bullet. That would have made sense. What was it V had said—that neither of them were worth the sacrifice of their friends? He’d been _right_. Selfishly, Johnny had made him drop the gun and seduced him instead. V, that fucking sap, hadn’t taken it as a quick fuck, either. He’d fallen in love. _Fuck. Why?_

The weight of souls resting on his conscience was too much to bear, like rocks around his ankles pulling him down into the dark water to drown. That might have felt redemptive, if the weight of V’s soul didn’t burden him more than the three-quarters of a million lives he’d taken in the Arasaka Tower attack. There was something wrong with him beyond mere narcissism. A disconnect that didn’t make sense. It was V’s influence, he was sure of it. Humanity growing inside him like a cancer, causing him to reflect on everything in a new light, and it was torture. Even soulless corpos were starting to seem like human beings now, and he couldn’t abide it much longer.

Johnny was starting to wonder if there was a God, and Night City was Hell. V had redeemed his immortal soul and gone on to the next life, while Johnny stayed on this plane, rotting from the inside out. His punishment for being a sack of shit was that he had to live in the toilet. He was too ashamed to call up old friends, and so he’d ghosted everyone. What would he say, anyway? _Hi, I stole V’s body?_ They’d never believe V gave it up willingly. They knew Johnny the manipulative asshole. They would assume he’d wrested V’s body from him, and they’d hate him for it. Kerry especially. It would kill Kerry to know the man he loved had killed the other man he loved. No, he had to stay away. He’d tainted their lives enough with his shit. They’d rebuilt everything, and he wasn’t going to take it all away again.

He wandered into the kitchenette and eyed his gun resting on the table. V had put Smasher down with it, avenging Johnny’s death with an act of visceral art that made them both vengeful sinners. Johnny wished he could go back and wrest control of V’s body from him at the moment before he stepped into Mikoshi. If only to force V back into his own body before he got the dumb idea of making Johnny klep it.

Maybe the gonk had been suicidal after all, and his sacrifice was less that and more of a way out of Night City for good. No, he’d wanted to live. V feared death, but he’d tried everything to avoid a pointless and vicious end.

Johnny picked up his pistol. The weight of the gun he’d had crafted specifically for his own use was heavy in his hands, like the burdens he carried. He raised it to his temple, thinking about the moment when V had done the same thing up on the rooftop. It would have ended there if he hadn’t stopped him. The moments afterwards had been the best of his life—living or dead—and he couldn’t bring himself to regret the kiss or the sex. V was special, and the idea that he’d looked twice at Johnny was unbelievable at times. Stockholm Syndrome. Had to be.

Johnny’s hands shook as he pushed the barrel past his lips. Hell of a way to pay V back, but he couldn’t go on like this. He’d killed V and it was all for nothing. He didn’t deserve a second chance. He didn’t want it. The world had moved past Johnny Silverhand and now he had to move past it.

The folks upstairs would hear the shot. Johnny turned on the TV and cranked up the volume, hoping to drown out the sound at least a little. He didn’t need some well-meaning prick barging in and saving his life again. He wanted peace. Silence. An ending. His encore was over and it was time to get off the stage for good.

“Shut the fuck up down there!” someone yelled. Johnny barely heard them. His fingers trembled on the trigger, tears stinging his eyes. _Love you, V. Fuck you too. This gift was a goddamn curse._

_I’m sorry._

He pulled the trigger. The hammer hit nothing and discharged only a click. The gun wasn’t loaded. He’d emptied the bullets out of it the last time he’d gotten drunk and stupid. Johnny sagged, dropping the weapon onto the table and resting his forehead against the battered surface. A sob escaped his throat. A news broadcast was airing, Nancy playing her role as Bes Isis perfectly. They’d all moved on without him. Every last one of them.

There was nothing left for him here, but he couldn’t leave, either. He was trapped, as sure as he had been in Mikoshi. A prisoner in this body that wasn't his and could never truly belong to him. An inmate of this city that whispered false promises in his ear and failed to deliver.

The news broadcast boomed off the walls. _NetWatch is on high alert after a cyberattack lit up several billboards across the city with the letter V—_

Johnny snapped his head up, his vision swimming. He wiped his eyes, pushing his self-pity away. The news station displayed several of the billboards, their flashing lights calling to him like a siren’s song. An old friend delivering a ray of light in a dark moment. V. He only knew one, and if NetWatch was involved, this wasn't some backstreet netrunner delivering a belated eulogy. This was the real thing. V was lighting up the Net like a ghost and he had NetWatch spooked.

V was _alive_. Hope flared inside Johnny’s ribcage, pushing outwards like it might burst out of him, eviscerating his body in the process. There was no way V would risk aggravating NetWatch unless it was urgent. V needed him, and suddenly he realized he’d been waiting for this. For a sign—any sign—that V was out there somewhere and this terrible mistake might be reversed.

He’d do anything to stand before V and say _thanks, but no thanks, choom_. Kiss him one last time and leave this vessel for the one who truly belonged here. He could rest easy, then. Put this whole thing to bed and let V live out the quiet life he deserved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with chapter 2! These chapters take a while to write, edit, and pin down perfectly, so don't expect more than one a week. Really having a blast with this, though.
> 
> If you wanna follow me on Twitter, handle is @landale

Johnny was no netrunner. That was Alt’s specialty. He’d never had the brains for it, despite the fact V's cyberdeck was still crammed inside him. The only lead he had was the scene of the crime, and so he wiggled into his clothes, shoved his gun into his waistband, and left the motel room for the first time in days. The sun had gone down, and he was glad—he was sure the bright light would burn out his optics after days in the dark.

He’d kept his old Porsche and it looked absurd sitting in the parking lot with a dozen Nomad off-roaders. Everything that had once belonged to V he’d abandoned. Hopefully Misty had taken care of selling it and cleaning out his apartment. She and Vik could split the profits—they'd been good to V. He couldn’t stand to hold onto mementos. Sentimentality wasn’t his jam—not in that sense, anyway. He wasn’t gonna sniff V’s clothing to remember the guy. Some scribbled pages with contrived song lyrics were as close as he’d gotten before he'd given up on his half-assed eulogy. It was hard to write V off as dead when he was walking around in his body. It was like holding a funeral for someone who was still in a coma. As long as he didn't give up, there was the chance V might make it back to this side. It was all he had to cling to.

Speed limits were for gonks. He tore up rubber, thinking that if the road killed him, so be it. He'd never planned to live past thirty and here he was, still kicking even after death. Perhaps his depression was the reaper's way of trying to claw back his soul for good.

Returning to Night City proper was like coming home to an abusive family. The sights and sounds were familiar, but they brought a mingled sense of relief and fear that collided in his gut like some gangoon's sucker punch. He mounted the sidewalk and tumbled out of the car, still slightly drunk. Johnny stood in the only place he’d ever really considered home, but he was a ghost in it, an impossible afterimage of a lost soul in a dead man's body everyone seemed to have forgotten the shape of.

Part of him wanted to go to the Afterlife, but there were no more favors to cash in with Rogue. Still, even a stinging slap to the face felt preferable to the bitter silence of being just another faceless Night City resident. For someone who’d thrived being the center of attention, Johnny could barely stand the fact that nobody recognized him. He would have been happy even to be known as V, but nobody on the streets lifted their head as he wandered past a sex club. Even a legendary merc was forgotten all too soon in a world where life was cheap. The street cred V had earned was worthless now he couldn't be of use to the living. The Fifth Corporate Wars were in full swing, and people had bigger things on their plates. V had gone out in a blaze of glory, leaving nothing, not even ashes. Maybe he had a drink named after him, right next to Johnny’s. He liked the thought of that. It was the only way they could be together. On a shelf in a bar behind Claire’s pretty, smiling face.

It wasn't enough, but it was all they had.

He wasn't even sure what V's drink would consist of, and that made him feel more lonesome than ever.

The neon lights of Jig Jig Street bathed Johnny in an aura of pink and blue, reflecting off his leather pants. Several joytoys beckoned him with sultry tones, and he turned his face away. V had been with the guy on the right, his body craving pleasure like it was going out of style in the wake of learning about his impending doom. Johnny remembered their encounter like it was yesterday. V was a generous lover, sucking cock like it belonged in his mouth, making sure the joytoy got as much as he gave. Tipping afterwards. Johnny had been ashamed at the time. He’d always treated sex workers like disposable objects, like any other kind of biz in the city, but like many things, V had shown him how it was done. How he might have lived if he hadn't been so wrapped up in himself at the expense of all others.

Instead, he’d been jealous of V's encounter with the joytoy. Wanting V’s laser focus set on him and not some random stranger he'd never see again. Johnny closed his eyes for a moment. It was almost too painful to recall that they had fucked, up on the roof of Misty's place. He’d had it all, right before he’d lost it all. He'd won the battle and stopped V from killing himself, but lost the war when V gave his body over to him anyway.

He emerged from his reverie to find himself at the end of a narrow alleyway where several billboards advertised _Watson Whore_. One glitched out, changing into a bright V. Johnny reached out and touched it, wishing he could connect and download V back into him. If only it was that easy.

“You gotta gimme something to work with here, V. I wanna help you, but you gotta help me first.”

The image changed to a Militech ad. At first, Johnny dismissed it, but then he realized this was what V wanted him to see. It was an advertisement for a new Militech weapon, a chromed up assortment of body parts “with the soul of a soldier.” There was to be a demonstration at Militech Tower this coming afternoon.

 _With the soul of a soldier._ Johnny shuddered. They’d destroyed Mikoshi and Soulkiller. Arasaka’s stock price had tanked in the wake of the scandal, diminishing its chokehold on Night City. That should have been the end of it, but it hadn’t been, had it? Someone was still using the tech.

The image changed again to the words _Help me._

“V?” Johnny gasped. What if those fuckers at NetWatch had captured V’s engram somehow? What if, instead of being free beyond the Blackwall, V was a Militech prisoner about to be used as a weapon?

“Oh, fuck no. I’m not gonna let those corporats fuck you over a second time.” Johnny rested his forehead against the billboard, feeling the cool surface against his hot skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I _owe_ you.”

“The billboard can’t hear you, gonk!” A drunk tossed a bottle in his direction. It landed at his feet and rolled. Johnny crushed it under his boot and stalked out of the alleyway.

He was going to save V even if he had to kill every damn corpo in Militech Tower single-handedly.

Wasn't like he hadn't destroyed a corpo tower before for the sake of a lost love. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes he had when he'd jacked Alt's body out of the 'Net. This time, he was leaving with V. Or not at all.

* * *

The security guard narrowed his eyes as Johnny passed through the metal detector and into the Militech demonstration area. The guard was armed to the teeth with body armor to match, and suddenly Johnny felt naked wearing only his Samurai tank top. His dog tags sat on the conveyorbelt waiting for pickup, and he thought about the fact that not only one, but two people had sacrificed their lives for his.

The metal detector beeped, as Johnny full well knew it would. His gun was tucked inside his boot. Any scan would give an indeterminate response requiring further observation. Charisma was a superpower, and Johnny turned his charm on as he was taken to the side for a pat-down.

“You want to feel me up, huh? Get a little of that silver in your hand?” He forced a grin, his eyes roving over the tall security guard.

“Shut up.” Damn, the guard was straight. But that worked too. He seemed eager to be done, and never asked Johnny to take off his boots. A cursory pat-down saw Johnny cleared to enter the demonstration arena. He slipped his dog tags over his head and carried on walking.

He stuck out like a sore thumb in the throngs of corporats and military types. A few 6th Street gangoons sat in one stand, chanting NUSA. Johnny wanted nothing to do with them, either. He took a seat in a seemingly deserted corner and people kept a wide berth, creating a no-man’s land around him. No doubt they could feel trouble wafting off Johnny; after all, no Silverhand cosplayer came to a corpo event to suck cock and spend eddies. He was surprised they’d let him in at all, but he supposed his presence filled a seat and made the stock prices go up. Militech were on home turf, confident in their security measures.

He eyed up every camera in the room. Twenty-five in total. There had to be a hundred or more guards. Militech had reason to feel secure. If Johnny so much as reached into his boot, he was going to be flatlined before he could fire off a shot. V's cyberdeck was useless in his hands. The quickhack software installed might as well have been in Russian. The guy had been one hell of a netrunner. Maybe even better than Alt.

Militech started their demonstration, showing off a new tank while they aired a recruiting ad. Johnny’s dog tags lay heavy against his chest as he recalled fighting in Mexico, and he wondered how many of the 6th Street gonks would quit the gang in hopes of finding glory in the war.

 _None of my biz,_ he reminded himself. _Not what I came here for._

The demonstration continued. Johnny’s unease grew as time passed. Smart helicopters. Bigger bombs. Smaller mines. More toys to murder people with. Everything he’d done in his lifetime was worth less than nothing. All the lives he’d taken had amounted to zero progress. He’d taken his shot at the powers-that-be and lost.

It was worse to have lived to see his legacy dissipate than to die at Smasher’s hand in his moment of victory. Hopelessness spread through him as a dais rose from the floor with a single soldier on it. A dead soldier resurrected and chromed-out to the point he was almost a full-body conversion from the looks of it. There was barely any flesh to look at, and what was there had a grey-tinted hue, like a zombie.

“Meet the SuperSoldier. Fusing the chipped body of a flatlined soldier with a memory engram, the SuperSoldier can do what no machine can: fight for a cause. Fight like it means to.” The soldier fired at several targets, hitting each one with perfect accuracy.

Johnny watched in abject horror, his skin crawling. It wasn’t enough to sell your life to Militech, now even death was theirs. Your body. Your soul. If he hadn’t already deserted, he would do so again, a thousand times over. Fuck, did corps have no goddamn limits?

A journalist’s hand shot up. “Wasn’t memory engram technology developed by Arasaka?”

“Our technology is faster, smarter, and better in every way. We can even create an engram from the dead—with limited capabilities, of course.”

“What about permission?”

“All Militech soldiers sign over their afterlife rights when they join up. Several have already been made into engrams. Their families can rest easy knowing their loved ones continue to serve for the good of humanity.”

“Fuck me, it’s Mikoshi Two,” Johnny muttered under his breath. “Everythin’ we did, V, it didn’t change _shit_.” He stood up. He’d seen enough. He climbed the steps two at a time, desperate to leave this cursed place. Maybe he would abandon Night City after all. Might even take up his guitar and scream into a mic somewhere about this. Someone had to do something, and all he'd ever been able to do was howl at the moon like it would change anything. As if he wasn’t—and had always been—completely powerless to change his fate. If a nuke in the heart of Arasaka Tower hadn't done it, what would? What would finally bring the corpos to their knees? Complete annihilation of the entire planet? Nah, they'd still exist out in space, spreading throughout the universe like a virus.

A warning popped up in his HUD. Someone was hacking him. Some goddamn Militech netrunner, no doubt, and there was fuck all he could do about it but leave.

A connection opened. Voice only.

“Johnny, you gotta help me.”

“ _V?_ ” Johnny darted into an alcove, covering his mouth.

“I don’t have much time, and you’re the only one I can trust. Yorinobu Arasaka sold the Relic technology to NetWatch, who licensed it to Militech.”

Johnny fingered a cigarette, trying to calm his nerves. “That doesn’t explain how you’re here. I thought you went beyond the Blackwall?”

“Alt and I went our separate ways. Our goals are different," V explained.

Johnny shook his head. “You’ve been here all along. Haven’t you? You never planned to cross over with Alt. You've been creepin' around the local Net like a ghost. Shoulda figured.”

“I didn’t wanna leave you, Johnny. Didn’t wanna leave Night City. I’m a part of this place. I’ve been running and hiding from NetWatch this entire time. Until they caught me. They downloaded my engram and stored me in their systems, until I was licensed to Militech along with the Relic technology. They’re keeping me on a Relic chip they bought, just like they imprisoned you. Their engram technology isn’t ready yet, so they used me for their demonstration model. They’re having problems pulling engrams without Soulkiller. Turns out they can’t reconstruct as much of a person as they’d hoped.”

“There’s no way I can get to you,” Johnny hissed. “They’ve got this place locked down tight. I’m no netrunner like you, V.”

“I know. Johnny, I don’t need you to save me. It’s all right. I just need you to destroy me. There’s an explosive tank on stage just itching to blow. One well-placed flick of a cigarette and half this place will go up.”

“Oh, _preem_. You called me back here like your errand boy so I could kill you again. No. Not gonna do it.” Johnny folded his arms, leaning against the wall.

“There’s more than our lives at stake. If Militech is allowed to commercialize this tech, everyone will become a soldier in a zombie war, never allowed to rest in peace. Militech will have a limitless corpo army they can use to take over the world. I know you won't delta on this. It's not your style.”

“I used to think I was fightin’ for a higher cause, V. Thought I could change the world. I died for that principle. But nothin’ I did changed a goddamn thing. Not the songs. Not the nuke. Not the sacrifices. The corpos marched on. Even our destruction of Soulkiller only delayed memory engram technology by a few months.”

“You just gonna go back to the motel and carry on feeling sorry for yourself?” V asked. “Drink that body to death, if you don’t put a bullet in your brain first?”

“You left me behind, V. I never asked for this life. What am I supposed to do?” Johnny snapped. "You were supposed to come back. I should have gone with Alt beyond the Blackwall. That was the deal."

“The deal made no sense and you know it. Sacrifice your life for six lousy months in a dying shell? How did you expect me to live with that?”

"You're one to talk." Johnny swallowed the lump in his throat. "Selfish prick. How do you think I've been feelin'? These past six months haven't exactly been nova."

V hung up, and Johnny muttered a curse word underneath his breath. The questions went on, camera flashes lighting up the arena as kids posed with the body V was now stuck in.

“Fucking asshole. Always gotta be right, don’t ya? Never happy unless you have the last word.” Johnny looked around. If he joined the line of people hoping for a photo op, he could get close enough to V to do something about his situation. If V was on a chip, it might be as easy as reaching around the back of his head and extracting it discreetly. Not his normal M.O., but blowing them both up was a gonk plan anyway. Maybe as much as V had gotten into him, he’d grown on V like poison ivy, making him angry and reckless.

He waited as kids, gangoons, and corpos posed with V like a doll. The thing had a smell like formaldehyde, and he didn't like it one bit. He thought about the man who took a bullet for him. Thank god he was rot by now and didn't have to deal with this shit.

He found himself at the front of the line, nerves tighter than the moment before he stepped out on stage at a concert. Except he didn't have a line of cocaine to snort here.

“‘Johnny Silverhand’ wants a pic with the latest corpo weapon?” The presenter laughed. “Well, I’m not sure you exude the spirit of Silverhand, but maybe that’s for the best.”

Johnny used the moment to lean in and grin, flashing a middle finger at the camera to keep everyone entertained while he reached around the zombie's skull and extracted the chip. He palmed it, walking casually to the exit while the next person stepped up.

“And that'll be all for today!” the announcer said cheerily. Johnny glanced behind him to see the thing pitch forward off its base, crashing to the ground. A group of technicians and security swarmed it, like the zombie soldier had Trauma Team Platinum. Johnny picked up his pace, heading out into the vestibule and mingling with the crowds before anyone could discover the Relic was missing. An alarm went off, shutters closing as the building went into lockdown. Johnny sidestepped into the bathroom, locking himself into a stall. There was no way out. He was cornered, and it was only a matter of time before Militech security found him. If they discovered the chip on his person, he'd be interrogated and flatlined. They'd think he was a corporate spy, or a merc. Either way, it wouldn't end well.

Johnny’s Relic chip still permanently ate up one of V’s shard slots, but he still had an empty one. Perhaps it was fitting that history repeated itself. He could put the Relic in and let V come home. Overwrite him slowly. Put things back in their proper place.

The bathroom door slammed open. “Everyone get down on the floor! I know he came in here. Find him.” Several pairs of boots echoed on the tiled floor as stall doors were kicked open.

Johnny was running out of time. He could gun down these soldiers, but he’d never make it to the exit. He'd be killed, and V would remain their prisoner indefinitely. He slotted the shard in and sighed as the engram on the chip installed itself with a progress meter.

 _“Johnny. I can get us outta this, but you gotta let me take over.”_ V stood next to him, a glitchy mess, but unmistakably the man he’d fallen in love with.

 _"Don't you need pills for that?"_ Johnny asked. The stall door next to him smashed in. Gunfire deafened him as some innocent was gunned down.

_"That's because I was fighting you back then. I think if you just relax and let me in, I can take the wheel."_

“All right,” Johnny whispered. “Do it.” He closed his eyes, giving himself over to V. Perhaps this was it. If they survived, there was no reason for V to ever hand this body back. It was better if he didn't. Johnny could finally find peace knowing that for once in his life, he'd done the right thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a sex scene in this chapter with trans male V, the terms used are cunt, t-dick, and hole.

Johnny woke sweating in the driver’s seat of his Porsche. Badlands heat pounded down on the car. The vehicle trapped it, making Johnny feel like he was melting on the Mexican front, the smell of sweat and putrefaction strong in his nostrils. He pushed the unpleasant memory away, but he knew it wouldn’t stay gone. The war was always there, waged within him even though it was long over.

His head hurt like a son of a bitch, resisting the blinding sunlight that shone in through the windshield. He opened the driver’s side door and puked onto the sand, gasping for breath. A warning flashed across his vision: RELIC MALFUNCTION DETECTED.

The radio droned on in the background. _“In an unprecedented moment of chaos, a mass suicide took place at the Militech Demonstration Facility today. NCPD and NetWatch are trying to determine if the act was a moment of mass hysteria triggered by the demonstration of a new Relic or the act of one or more skilled netrunners…”_

“What the fuck happened back there?” Johnny gasped. He knew V was listening. Could feel him under his skin, kicking inside him, struggling within him like a man in a locked box underwater fighting to get out before he drowned. Poor bastard. Johnny knew what that was like.

V appeared outside the car, leaning on the open door. His expression was solemn, resigned. “You almost got flatlined, that’s what happened. If I hadn’t killed a hundred guards with their own guns, we’d be gone.” There was no hint of pride in his eyes, only grim acknowledgement. He’d done what he had to do for their survival, and he didn’t deny the ugliness of it.

“Fuck,” Johnny spat. “Now Militech’s gonna be on us like flies on shit. Thought you'd figure out some way to squeeze us into a fuckin’ vent or blow out all their optics. I coulda blasted my way outta there in a violent murder spree.”

“I never wanted it to end like this, Johnny. You know the score. We’ve been here before.” V looked away, and Johnny almost felt guilty for bringing him back. _Almost._

“You’ll overwrite me, piece by piece,” Johnny explained. “This Relic didn’t need to flatline the body in order to activate. Maybe ‘cause I invited you in, like a fuckin’ vampire. It’s all right. Just puttin’ things back in their place. This body was always yours, V. Maybe now it’ll actually see you as its rightful owner.”

The slap across his face stung just like a real one, and Johnny laughed. “God, you’re a bitch just like Rogue.” V slapped him again. The pain was good. Made him feel alive. His blood was singing, and if he hadn’t felt like shit, he would have gotten down and dirty in the sand with V until they were fighting or fucking. Preferably the latter, but it had been too long since he’d been in a good fistfight. He got out of the car, ready to grab V by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but something held him back. Maybe the fact that V was beating on himself pretty hard without Johnny’s help.

“You were supposed to flatline me,” V hissed. “I asked you to end this.”

“No fuckin’ way. Fuck you and your bullshit death wish.” Johnny kicked the sand at his feet. “You don’t know what it’s been like. I couldn’t call your friends and tell them I stole your life. Couldn’t stand to show my face in front of mine, either. The weight of souls on my conscience drags me down. But the life I felt worst about was yours. The burden of killin’ you took all the wind outta my sails, and all I could do was drift on the ocean of life. I was never supposed to live, V. I was willing to give up my life. We had a deal. I would get out of your head when the time came. Why couldn’t you keep up your end of the bargain?”

“You know why.” V leaned back against the Porsche, his arms folded. “It’s that sappy shit you hate hearin’. That I’m in love with you.”

Johnny spat into the sand. “You don’t get it. I don’t do happy endings. Look at me, at my life. Everyone who touches me gets fucked. And not in the fun way.”

“Rogue’s doin’ all right,” V pointed out. “Kerry, too.”

“And now you’re going to survive, and I’m goin’... wherever it is I’m goin’. So it’s all good.” Johnny shrugged and climbed back into the driver’s seat. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. It creaked, reminding him that he had a physical presence here. It was still hard to adjust to that after years trapped in Mikoshi and two eventful weeks inside V’s brain before he took over this body.

He opened his eyes to find V had rematerialized leaning on the door. Even now, V couldn’t keep his eyes off him. Johnny looked away, afraid to get sucked into that gaze again. “Couple of weeks and this will all be yours again. You can get on with your life and forget about me. Just like Kerry and Rogue. They were better off once I was gone.”

V pushed off the door and paced like a caged animal. “So that’s how it’s gonna be. Two weeks of us fightin’ because we love each other too fucking much. Until… Until you’re _gone_.”

“Better you see me for the asshole I am,” Johnny said. “I can’t stand watchin’ you excuse everything I ever did. Making a saint outta me. I tried to kill you. Manipulated you. And it worked. You gave me your whole fuckin’ life. Well, choom, I’m here to tell you I don’t _want_ it.”

“Bullshit. You spent years trapped in Mikoshi, only to wake up in a body that wasn’t yours. You were scared. Like anyone would be. You’re still scared, all piss and vinegar at me because you can’t handle the fact that someone thought you worth makin’ a sacrifice for.”

“See, you’re doin’ it again. Making excuses for me. _Stop_.” Johnny clutched the steering wheel. It was searing hot, but he didn’t care. Let it burn. Until he remembered that these were V’s hands he was melting, fucking up implants he couldn’t afford to replace. He let his hands slip into his lap.

V shrugged, pausing midstep. “I’m no saint either. I didn’t nuke NC, but I’ve killed hundreds of people. Maybe savin’ you was my way of trying to atone.” His image flashed and his voice became distorted for a moment. Johnny couldn’t hear what else V said, but he got the picture.

Had he glitched out like this too? It was hard to remember, now. It might be normal. Or as normal as being an engram crammed inside someone else’s head could ever be.

“Wrong fuckin’ city for a redemption story,” Johnny chided, but the anger was gone from his voice. He reached out and grabbed V by the arm, grateful he could touch him again. He pulled V towards the car and down into a kiss, taking his time exploring his mouth. V appeared on top of him and started to grind into his lap. Now if that wasn’t a preem way to take his mind off shit.

“Fucking missed you,” V hissed.

“Missed you too,” Johnny admitted. “As much as I’d like to fuck the shit outta you right now, there’s a gun in my boot that could pop off at any second.” He reached down and pulled out his pistol, tossing it down onto the passenger seat. It glinted in the sunlight as V straddled him, his invisible body passing through the steering wheel and merging with the dash. Not that it mattered. V felt as real in his hands as any living being, and Johnny’s body responded in kind. “It’s the ultimate narcissist move, fucking yourself. I approve.”

The look in V’s eyes was more intense than anything he’d ever seen. This was what he’d been dreaming about back on Jig-Jig Street. V wasn’t smiling as he said “shut the fuck up and pull your pants down already.”

Johnny complied, unzipping his leather pants to reveal V’s glistening cunt, his t-dick hard. V reappeared in the footwell and buried his face in it, eating Johnny out while he assaulted his dick with his tongue.

“Bet you always wanted to eat your own pussy. You look fuckin’ good doing it, too.” Johnny grinned, feeling his old self come pouring back in. It was as if V had taken some part of him with him when he’d left, and only now they were back together was he whole again. “Thought about gettin’ a dick, but it didn’t feel right.”

“Why not both?” V teased, before continuing his relentless assault on Johnny’s cunt.

“God, now you’re talkin’.”

V paused, grinning. “Have to rename you Johnny Silvercock.” V’s lips were wet with Johnny’s slick. Johnny grabbed him by the hair and pressed him back into his cunt. His muffled cries didn’t stop him from eating Johnny like a repressed virgin, tongue lashing his t-dick until Johnny clawed the leather seats and screamed out his orgasm. V tore at his own zipper, removing intangible clothes from an intangible body. With his pants gone from the equation, Johnny grabbed V and pulled him up onto his lap, slipping two fingers into his sopping wet hole and fucking him relentlessly with them. V rode his fingers, groaning as Johnny pushed further and further into him. Johnny curled his hand into a fist inside V, who clamped down, squeezing hard enough to crack knuckles as he came.

His image glitched. V screeched something that came out as static before his image settled down.

“Fuck V, holy shit.” Johnny pulled out, licking his fingers. There was nothing there but the taste of himself, but the look on V’s face was gorgeous, open and needy in the wake of coming. V collapsed onto his chest, a look of peace spreading across his face.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, samurai,” Johnny whispered. V’s eyes closed with Johnny’s fingers laced in his hair, and Johnny felt his loss as V disappeared from view. He pressed his lips together. Militech wasn’t going to let this slide. V’s Kiroshi optics kept his face obscured on surveillance cameras, but not TV ones. Not to mention the thousands of eyewitnesses who’d seen him at the event. Maybe it was time to ditch the Johnny Silverhand look and go back to V’s old style.

He started the car. Pain surged through his chest, and he wondered how much more tampering this body could take. V hadn’t gone into details, but his cyberware felt funky, like he’d been short circuited by a high-level netrunner. The glitches in V’s engram were unnerving him, too.He could go to any ripperdoc, but Vik was the one who knew most about the Relic. Who wouldn’t rat them out to fucking Militech at the slightest opportunity. First, though, he needed to clean up. He had a lot of explaining to do, and he didn’t want to do it covered in other people’s blood.

* * *

The No-Tell Motel took the personal link installed in V’s body and deducted the necessary funds from the bank account of a dead man. Thank God the place was A.I. run. No bullshit here, though a few gangoons side-eyed him on the way in. He hoped it was his resemblance to Silverhand and not the news that had them following him with their eyes. Regardless, he checked into his room and stared into the mirror, washing his face clean. It was time to restore V back to his defaults. He picked up a pair of scissors and was about to cut his hair when V appeared. His engram had no hair until it popped into view like a slow-loading data chunk in a back-alley braindance. It was disturbing to think V was only information now, holding onto life so tenuously.

“Johnny, don’t.” Glitchy fingers moved through him, guiding the hand with the scissors back down to the sink. Johnny let go of them with a sigh.

“Don’t got a choice, V. Militech knows some gonk Johnny knockoff is to blame for all this. ‘Sides, this body’s yours. Time I gave it back.”

V seemed to move inside him, manipulating Johnny’s hands like a puppet to pull his hair up into a ponytail. He tied it tight before stepping out of Johnny to stand behind him, brushing kisses against Johnny’s stubble and the exposed nape of his neck.

“Stop gettin’ me hard,'' Johnny groaned. “Our cyberware’s in tatters, you’re glitching like something’s broken, and I can’t run across town to Vik’s lookin’ like this.”

V scowled. “Enough with the movin’ out crap. My body isn’t an apartment. I don’t want you to pack up your shit and leave like you got evicted.”

“Just preppin’ for the inevitable,'' Johnny admitted. “Shoulda done that a long time ago. Maybe then you woulda abandoned that gonk idea of givin’ up your life for mine.”

“If you think that, then you don’t know me at all.” V sat on the edge of the bed, but something looked wrong about him. For a moment, Johnny couldn’t seem to make out the details of his face. It all blended together in his mind, and he had to look away. Something was fucked up, and he didn’t want to think about what or why.

When he looked at him again, V’s engram looked perfectly normal, and he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. “Call us a Delamain already and quit with the pity party, Johnny. You don’t expect to drive that Porsche around and not draw Militech’s attention, I hope?”

“What, you don’t wanna use the bed we paid for?” Johnny teased, hoping it might take the edge off V’s antagonism. Gonk had sure been pissed since he woke up in Johnny’s brain. Not like he didn’t know the feeling, but he had no idea what to do with all that anger now that he was on the receiving end of it.

V shrugged. “Like you said, nobody sleeps in motels. I think Lizzie Wizzy called me to this room once. Wanted me to dump a body.”

“I was there. ‘Sides, I wasn’t thinkin’ of sleeping, V.” Johnny folded his arms.

V went quiet for a moment. Had he forgotten that Johnny had seen and heard everything during those two weeks he’d spent in V’s head? Being V’s shadow had come with a set of drawbacks, but truth was, they were the happiest two weeks of Johnny’s entire life. He’d been afraid of intimacy until it was forced on him, and then he wondered how he’d ever lived without it. He’d never been so close to anyone, ever, and he and V had merged until there was no clear delineation line between them.

Until V had left him, severing them apart and leaving Johnny behind to figure out how to operate as a single entity.

He was starting to wonder if V didn’t reciprocate his feelings in quite the same way. It was possible he didn’t want to be bonded to Johnny in a physical sense. He’d had friends before he’d ever met Johnny. Jackie. Misty. Vik. Judy. Kerry. Panam. Even that fuckin’ cop River. He wasn’t short on people who loved him, while Johnny… Beyond owing him, Rogue had barely wanted to look at him. He was the reminder of a misspent youth, a regret come back to haunt her from the grave. Kerry had done all right without him, despite once being madly in love with him. V was it, and without V, there was nothing left for him in this world.

“I’m sorry.” V got up and paced. “I didn’t expect to come back. Not like this.” His voice sounded slow, like Johnny had activated his Sandevistan cyberware and the world was running in slow motion. Only this body didn’t run that operating system. A chill ran down his spine.

“Did I make a mistake, V?” Johnny leaned against the scratched-up desk, gripping the edges until splinters dug into what little flesh remained on his fingers. “Would you rather be floatin’ around the Net?”

V shook his head. “I’d be happy to stay like this forever, but that’s not gonna happen, is it? I gotta watch myself eat you alive, consume all that you are, and I’m powerless to do anythin’ about it. Not all the netrunning skills in the world can save you. I left because I didn’t want to live without you. If it wasn’t for NetWatch and Militech—”

“I put you back in because I didn’t wanna live without you either. I’m glad it turned out this way. I was ready to call it quits anyway. You got people who need you. Folks who love you. It was a selfish fuckin’ thing to delta on them for my sake.”

V scoffed. “Says the one ready to put a bullet in my brain.”

“Like a goddamn suicide quickhack, this body knows I ain’t supposed to be here.” Johnny stared down at the carpet. V walked over to him, lifting his chin.

“We’ll find a way to save you,” V said. “Things have changed. Militech have their own brand of Soulkiller now. Maybe I can get you back on a chip, put you inside a body.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’m not gonna overwrite some other gonk. That’s murder. That’s goddamn Arasaka-level bullshit. Just because you used to be a fucking corpo doesn’t mean—”

V raised his hands. “All right, all right. I hear you. We’ll find another way. I won’t give up looking.” He glitched out again before reappearing.“Call that cab already and let’s delta.”


End file.
